I'm Coming Home
by SerenityFalconNormandy
Summary: Written for the Dragon Age Reddit Weekly Writing Prompt: "If you need me, I'll be in my room, underneath a mountain of blankets, for the foreseeable future." Gwyneth returns to Denerim after attending trade negotiations in Orlais.


_Denerim. Home._

Gwyneth stood at the bow of the _King's Favor_, waiting impatiently as the mighty ship passed through the harbor chains, bound for the Lower Docks. Wisps of hair that had escaped her braids danced around her head in the sea breeze. The time in Orlais had been trying, exhausting on a level she hadn't anticipated. Whatever she had experienced as an elf and a mage dealing with nobles in Ferelden, it was nothing to how the Orlesian nobles had treated her, even with her title and status.

The Duke's mistress had been a greater hindrance than a help. Gwyn had anticipated a natural ally in the other mage. Unfortunately, Enchanter Vivienne's demeanor had changed the moment she figured out Gwyn was not fond of the Circle system. She had gone from warm and welcoming to cool and combative. There was a token measure of respect, since Gwyn was the Chancellor of Ferelden and Hero of the Fifth Blight, but the snide remarks were constant and disparaging.

It left her longing for home. Now, she was so close, yet so far from her beloved, her friends, the children, and her own room. Making sure she didn't ruffle any feathers by following the frankly ridiculous rules of etiquette for noble ladies in Orlais had been trying. Grand Entree, Premier Entree, Entree de la Chambre, how many more Entrees could there be? It took her nearly two Blighted hours to get dressed and emerge for the day's activities! And that didn't even take into account the dictates to change into other dresses for different activities, and the resulting folderol that entailed. Give her the worn, familiar Warden robes she rarely got to wear anymore any day of the week.

Her slim fingers drummed on the railing as smaller boats glided through the waves to help warp the _Favor_ in to the quay. Finally, the wait became too much, and she dashed from the bow to the port side, watching the docks, the spires of the palace, and Fort Drakon draw closer. Gwyn could just make out a cluster of horses and bannermen bearing the royal arms.

Shading her eyes, she scanned the cluster of people. No crown, damn. It wasn't like she could fling herself into Alistair's arms in public anyway, but having a moment to link hands and squeeze was so necessary that it brought a lump to her throat.

"Gwyneth!"

They were close enough to being fully docked that she could see Solona waving from atop one of the horses, auburn hair fluttering around her shoulders in the breeze. There was a loud slam as the gangplank hit the dockside, and Gwyn raced down to meet the other mage, flinging her arms out to hug her friend the moment her slippers hit the cobbles.

"Sol! I'm so glad to be home!"

"I'll bet. If Orlais was even half as bad as your letters made it sound, I'd never want to go there again."

"You have _no_ idea. If I never have to talk to that Enchanter from Montsimmard ever again, it will be too soon."

Solona grimaced. "I think I remember her. The one who refuses to believe that other Circles aren't the cushy palaces of Montsimmard and Ostwick?"

"They're far from cushy, from what I understand," Gwyn nodded to the footman carrying the stepstool to allow her to mount her palfrey, "It's just that she hasn't personally experienced the dark sides of those Circles, therefore they don't exist."

The two of them made disgusted noises in unison. They were fortunate. After the Blight and the unintentional humiliation of the Kinloch Hold Templars when Gwyn had cleared the Tower with only three other people, the Fereldan Circles had made a tacit, unspoken agreement that they answered to the Crown, not the Chantry. With Solona acting as Court Enchanter, she'd been able to get the worst offenders in the Templars removed from their positions, and both Kinloch and Jainen were in the midst of extensive renovations to allow the mages living within personal space and privacy. Grand Cleric Elemina was apoplectic over it, but she could not argue with the vastly reduced number of failed Harrowings and instances of Tranquility. Gwyn sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Maker for her friend.

The trip through the streets to the palace was quick, as construction projects to improve the streets of the capital were in effect. Fergus Cousland's marriage to Caterina of Rialto had paid dividends with the increased trade with Antiva, and the subsequent influx of cash from the sale of Fereldan wool. Alistair and Elissa had led the Bannorn a merry dance to keep the extra income from sitting in coffers as opposed to being spent for the improvement of the realm.

As the party rode into the courtyard, Eamon Guerrin gave the mages a stiff bow as they dismounted. "Lady Chancellor, Lady Enchanter."

"Where is His Majesty, Arl Eamon?" Gwyn ignored the cool, borderline hostile greeting. He'd been angry ever since she'd been named Chancellor instead of him, but rising to his bait wouldn't change anything.

"The King and Queen are in the midst of a council with the Bannorn. They send their apologies for not being here to greet you. The Queen requested that you be given the rest of the day to settle in, and your reports on the trade talks with Orlais will be presented in the morning."

Gwyn perked up, "Well, in that case, If you need me, I'll be in my room, underneath a mountain of blankets, for the foreseeable future. Solona, Arl Eamon."

Her curtsy was a quick drop of the head and flick of her skirts, barely crisp enough to be proper, then she turned and walked as quickly as was allowed to her room. Viola, her maid, lit up when she entered the room, already tearing at the laces of her gown, "Vi, help me get out of this thing. I'm not leaving my room for the rest of the day and I intend to be in my nightgown for all of it."

The young woman giggled, and helped unlace, unpin, and un-everything before throwing a soft lawn nightgown over Gwyn's head, "There, my lady."

"Oh, I can _breathe _again! You wouldn't believe how tightly Orlesian women lace their stays, it's ridiculous!" Gwyn took a deep breath, coughing a little as air was drawn into parts of her lungs that had been squished in the overly-tightened undergarments. "I can't believe more of them don't faint or have problems. I don't need any further assistance for the day, Vi, if you would like to have some free time."

The maid nodded happily, "Thank you, my lady. I'll still be in the palace if you need anything, I'll have a page stay out in the hall to fetch me."

"Thank you, Vi."

After the bubbly young woman departed, Gwyn padded into her bedroom, then kicked off her slippers before flopping onto her bed. _Home_, she thought before falling asleep.


End file.
